


Goldfish, the Moon, Death, and the Afterlife

by JennaJay



Series: The Crowned Horse and Other Related Side Stories [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Afterlife, Descent into Madness, Gen, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, No Incest, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaJay/pseuds/JennaJay
Summary: What if Korekiyo’s relationship with his sister was healthy? What if it was supportive? What if their shared interest in anthropology made them the best of friends?And what if, despite all that, Korekiyo still went a little mad after his sister passed away?(Don’t worry about this being part of a larger series. The stories are only tangentially related, and this one works perfectly well as a standalone.)
Series: The Crowned Horse and Other Related Side Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559662
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Goldfish, the Moon, Death, and the Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be a short POV for Korekiyo in The Crowned Horse, but I underestimated how many headcanons I had, and now we’re here.
> 
> Korekiyo references two fairy tales in this fic: Thumbelina and The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. Although you don’t need to read them to understand the story, if you want to read them, you can go [here](http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_tiny.html) for Thumbelina and [here](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&ved=2ahUKEwin1Jn2tJXmAhWXuZ4KHYZSDO8QFjAAegQIAhAC&url=https%3A%2F%2Fetc.usf.edu%2Flit2go%2Fpdf%2Fpassage%2F4834%2Fjapanese-fairy-tales-002-the-bamboo-cutter-and-the-moon-child.pdf&usg=AOvVaw3htrUIQFwfZS9-HU2wrVJX) for The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. 
> 
> Cultural note: In Asian folklore, there is a myth of a rabbit on the moon, constantly pounding with his mortar and pestle. The specifics of the myth vary from culture to culture. For instance, Japanese and Korean versions have him pouding the ingredients for rice cakes while the Chinese versions have him pounding the immortality-bestowing elixir of life for the moon goddess, Chang’e.

“Your sister’s in the hospital.”

The first time Korekiyo had heard that sentence, it had been a bright, Spring morning, just like any other. And yet, as soon as he sprinted out of his bedroom, he was stopped by a chilling sight: His mother--who normally would have been at work--sat in the living room, her eyes ringed with tired bags, lips pressed together in something close to a grimace. Korekiyo had never seen her so tired, so tense. Even before she’d opened her mouth, he’d known that something was wrong.

His older sister, Yuri, had always been sickly, more prone to fits of coughing and exhaustion than anyone else Korekiyo knew. Still, it was nothing serious. Or, at least, that was what he’d thought.

But then, Yuri had gotten sick with a cold. Her coughing grew so severe she couldn’t finish her dinner. She’d excused herself to bed early, her chest heaving, and her face an abnormal shade of pink. 

Their parents had shrugged, saying that it would likely be cleared up with a bit of rest, and if she wasn’t better by tomorrow, they’d take her to the doctor.

That night, Yuri had burst into their room, skin dark red and rapidly turning blue. She couldn’t speak, only wheeze and cough. By the time she reached the hospital, she was already unconscious.

It had been a hectic night--or so Korekiyo had heard from his parents. Doctors had worked at her side round the clock, trying everything they knew to keep her alive and bring her back to normalcy. 

Thankfully, Yuri had pulled through, and, when Korekiyo had gone to visit her, he found her lying in bed with a book of fairy tales in her lap, her face made up like she were ready to hang out with one of her friends. She was alive, and, what’s more, she still had enough strength to do everything that she loved. Even though she had to pause for breath every time she spoke, Korekiyo was certain she would make a full recovery.

Within a week, her condition subsided, and she was allowed to return to school. She made it almost an entire year before a flare-up drove her to the hospital once again.

From there, her condition only worsened.

\------ 

“Do you wanna join the Kendo Club?”

“No. I have informed you of this several times.”

“Well, I’m not gonna stop asking until you join~”

Korekiyo picked up his pace. Given the sickly gray-orange sunset hanging in the sky--evidence of the day’s thick smog--it probably wasn’t good to exert himself. But, at that particular moment, Korekiyo found himself caring less about his health and more about getting away from the irritating, over-enthusiastic kendo club president.

“C’mon! A smart guy like you can do better than the Going-Home Club!”

She was still following him?

Korekiyo shot a scowl over his shoulder. The kendo club president didn’t seem to notice. She continued trailing after him, still grinning. Perhaps his mask hid his expression too well.

“I am not part of the ‘Going-Home Club.’ As soon as my sister leaves the hospital, we shall create our Anthropology Club.”

“Okay, but hear me out. Anthropology is the study of culture, right? And martial arts are part of culture. So, since kendo is a martial art, studying kendo is anthropology!”

Her logic was incredibly flawed, but, instead of arguing the point, Korekiyo simply said, “I prefer to study folklore,” and prayed that the coldness in his tone would be enough to drive away his unwanted follower.

“Aww. Okay. Well, if you change your mind, lemme know!” 

Korekiyo _highly_ doubted he would.

\------

_Plink. Plink._

The hospital’s courtyard was idyllic, almost sanctuary-like. White walls surrounded it on all sides, blocking out the chilly early-autumn winds. A ceiling of orange-red cherry leaves covered the sky, reminiscent of a tent’s canopy. Everything was so closed off, so in its own little world that, despite the bustling city beyond the hospital’s walls, all Korekiyo could hear was the burbling of the man-made river, weaving between patches of blossoming lily pads.

 _Plink. Plink._

There was only one person in the courtyard that day: Yuri. Every time she came to the hospital, she spent more and more time with a cane, then in a wheelchair, her body growing too weak to let her walk. Today was no exception. She sat beside the river, a bag of books hanging off the back of her wheelchair and a sack of fish food resting in her lap.

She turned her head at Korekiyo’s approach and, although he couldn’t see her smile behind her mask, Korekiyo didn’t miss how her eyes crinkled with joy when she saw him. She patted the bench next to her, and Korekiyo took his seat.

“They stocked the pond with goldfish!” Yuri said the words in one breath, but even that simple action left her panting. Still, the joy didn’t leave her eyes as she grabbed a handful of fish food and tossed the pellets one by one into the pond. _Plink. Plink._

“The hospital allows you to feed them?”

Yuri nodded. “Being loved is good for staying healthy. If the goldfish love me, maybe my lungs...ah...will get better.”

Korekiyo couldn’t resist a chuckle. “Are you inventing your own superstitions now?”

“Beloved people live longer. It’s science.” Yuri sealed up the bag of fish food and raised a finger, pointing at each of the fish in turn, mouthing numbers. “Nine. Nine of the fish are my friends. Maybe...ah...maybe that’s nine weeks of a cane...not a wheelchair?”

A strange superstition, but an intriguing one nonetheless. Korekiyo could play along. “Perhaps it’s nine days until you can come home,” he offered. Yuri’s suggestion had been far too pessimistic. 

The happy crinkle around Yuri’s eyes softened into something heavy. “Kiyo...that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re right. It will likely take a couple of weeks, at the very least. But one can hope, can’t they?”

“No...I mean...Kiyo...I’m not leaving the hospital.”

Korekiyo opened his mouth to ask what she meant, even though, deep down, he knew all too well. The tears shimmering in Yuri’s eyes, her clenched fists--they answered Korekiyo’s question for him.

So it had finally happened. They’d both known that this was coming. Still, Korekiyo had hoped they’d both graduate high school before her condition grew this severe.

“Yuri, did the doctors say…?”

“I’ve got a year...Tops.”

A year. Those seemed to drag along so slowly. And yet, even with a time limit set so far in the future, Korekiyo felt as if someone had flipped an hourglass, its grains of sand beginning to trickle away with each passing second.

“So, I-I suppose our plans for the Anthology Club are canceled, then?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Korekiyo winced. The club was the least of their worries, but it was the only thing he could think to ask. He didn’t want to talk--to even _think_ \--about how, all too soon, Yuri would be...gone. 

“We’re having Anthropology Club,” Yuri said. “We...we’ll meet here.” She sucked in a few deep breaths, then added, “But you’ll have to do most....of the reading.”

Korekiyo’s eyebrows creased. Not too many years ago, Yuri had been the one reading to him, sharing a new folk tale each night before bed. Whenever there was dialogue, she’d imitate such over-the-top voices that Korekiyo would always be left giggling.

Now though, she hardly had enough breath to string together a sentence. Korekiyo supposed it was his turn to repay her for all the tales she’d told him.

“I’m honored to take on that responsibility,” Korekiyo said.

“Then...as self-appointed club president...I decree...our first meeting begins now!”

Korekiyo reached into his backpack. The only folklore-related book he’d brought with him was a collection of Danish fairy tales. He thumbed through it, searching for a story neither he nor Yuri had heard before. One illustration caught his eye, showcasing a girl so small that she could stand atop a lily pad. The story’s title read, “Thumbelina.”

“How about this one?” Korekiyo asked.

Yuri nodded. 

Korekiyo cleared his throat and assumed his best, most narrator-like voice. “‘There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child…’”

\------

“‘...and from his song came the whole story,’” Korekiyo finished. He shut the book and looked to his sister once again. The happy crinkle around her eyes had returned. 

“This story reminds me...ah...of Princess Kaguya,” she said.

“Hmm. Yes. There are many parallels: An elderly person, one who has no children, meets a young girl who--seemingly--came into being within a plant. As she grows older, that young girl faces many undesirable suitors. The two are distant tales, written centuries and continents apart, and yet, despite their distance, the two share common elements. That similarity, it speaks to the underlying oneness of humanity. It’s rather beautiful, is it not?”

“Ah...but they end really differently…”

“True. Thumbelina marries a handsome king, and Princess Kaguya--”

“...she gets taken to the moon.” A heaviness settled on Yuri’s shoulders. The crinkle around her eyes twitched, and tears pooled across her eyelids.

“Yuri?”

“Ah...s-sorry. It’s just...I had a dream...last night...”

Korekiyo set the book aside and pulled Yuri into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing openly.

“I...I...I dreamed th-that...there was a...a rabbit o-on my windowsill...he-he--” Yuri’s tear-filled hiccups stalled her speech. Her gasping had become louder, deeper, as if she were struggling for breath between her sobs.

“Shh. Shh. Take it slow. It will--” Korekiyo stopped himself. He wouldn’t lie to her. It wasn’t going to be alright. “I’m here. You don’t have to explain it to me all at once. Or at all, if that would help you.”

Yuri shook her head. “That rabbit...h-he took my hand and carried me up...to the moon. He fed me rice cakes and...made me some medicine. And then, my lungs were...ah...fixed.”

“That sounds like a pleasant dream.”

Yuri pressed a nod into Korekiyo’s shoulder. “The rabbit...he brought me home. I raced you to school, and...I played basketball in PE, and I...I went to bed without Mom or Dad worrying that...that I might stop breathing while...while I was asleep.”

An easier life. Like the way things had been when they were kids.

“And then...I woke up. And I was stuck in this _stupid, broken body_.” Yuri hiccuped, and her sobbing returned tenfold, staining the shoulder of Korekiyo’s jacket with her tears.

Korekiyo didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her tighter. 

\------

Later, after Yuri’s sobs had died out, she’d suggested they return to her room. So, Korekiyo stood beside her as he struggled to catch her breath, having pushed her wheelchair all of a few meters.

“Are you alright? I could assist you, you know,” Korekiyo offered.

“No.” Yuri panted. “Exercise is...good. If my body’s strong it can...ah...compensate for my weak lungs. I need to do this.” With a deep breath, she pushed forward, managing to turn her chair’s wheels only a few times. “This might take a while…” she added.

“I’m in no hurry.”

Despite Yuri’s earlier sobbing, the happy crinkle was present around her eyes as she pushed forward.

“Do you enjoy exercising?” Korekiyo asked.

Yuri shook her head.

“But you seem rather cheerful.”

“I gotta be...to balance out the sadness.”

“Hm? Another superstition?”

“Nope! Happy people live longer. It’s...ah...science.” The happiness fell from Yuri’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. “There’s...a lot that’s sad about my life. So...when I’m not sad, I have to focus on the good things: Nine goldfish are my friends. I heard a new folk tale today. And...and...I’m president of the Anthropology Club!”

“All wonderful achievements.”

It took them almost half an hour to reach Yuri’s room. When they arrived, Yuri celebrated by pumping her fist in the air. “I did it!”

“Ah, congratulations.” Korekiyo tried to keep his expression positive, but his chest stung. Not long ago, Yuri had been capable of walking to her room with ease. How quickly her condition had worsened. 

“You’ll visit tomorrow, right, Kiyo?”

“Of course.”

“Good! Because Anthropology Club meets every day! Weekends and holidays, too!”

Korekiyo smiled. “I wouldn’t wish it any other way.”

\------

Korekiyo kept his promise. Every day, he visited his sister. Together, they pored over a library’s worth of books: fairy tales, myths, folk songs--anything they could get their hands on. Each of their meetings seemed too short. The days flew by too quickly. Before Korekiyo had time to realize it, winter’s snows had come and gone, leaving the courtyard’s once-barren cherry trees free to fill the air with pink blossoms.

Yuri wasn’t sitting at the stream. Not unusual. Her strength had declined to where she could barely leave her room. 

Seven months had passed. According to the doctors’ prognoses, Yuri had five left--under ideal circumstances, that was. 

Korekiyo’s phone rang--his mother’s ringtone. She hardly called, except for emergencies. Heart plummeting to his stomach, Korekiyo answered the phone.

“Kiyo. It’s your sister.” His mother's voice was tight. As if it were a string, trying to hold back a sob without snapping. “She’s still alive, but--”

She didn’t need to finish. Korekiyo dashed to Yuri’s room. Even before he entered, the air was filled with the steady hiss of Yuri’s ventilator--something the doctors only used when things looked dire. Beneath that noise was an even more worrisome one: The heart rate monitor--usually beeping steadily along, just rapidly enough to put Korekiyo on edge--now fluttered erratically, like a butterfly desperately flailing within a spider’s clutches.

Yuri herself was pale. A gray-blue tint had settled beneath her skin. Korekiyo’s parents sat beside her, their mother biting her bottom lip, her white-knuckled hand wrapped around Yuri’s. Snot and tears rolled down their father’s face, his lips trembling with unleashed sobs. 

Korekiyo glanced to the nurse on duty. “Is she…?”

“She’s unconscious, but she might still be able to hear and feel--for a few minutes at least. If you have anything to say, you need to say it now.”

The finality of that statement made Korekiyo dizzy. In a daze, he walked to Yuri’s side and took her hand. “Yuri, I…” There were a million things Korekiyo wanted to say. A million stories to read. A million superstitions to invent. But there wasn’t any time for that, so he said, “Yuri, I’m...I’m glad I could be your brother. I loved our anthropology club. I-I will miss you.” He squeezed Yuri’s hand. “I’m here, Yuri. I’m right here. I will always be here. I’m right here. I’m right here. I’m right here...” Korekiyo repeated the phrase until it lost all meaning. 

Everything else, all the “I love you’s” and “I’m sorry’s” had already been said. As long as Yuri could hear his voice--as long as she knew she wasn’t alone--that was all Korekiyo needed to tell her.

Korekiyo didn’t stop his mantra until his mother placed a hand on his shoulder. “Kiyo, she’s gone.”

The heart rate monitor had long since gone flat. Yuri’s hand was freezing.

Korekiyo’s whole body shook, trembling like the blurred images in his tear-filled vision. Yuri had left. And she wasn’t coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elysian Fields - an area within the Greek underworld where heroes go after they die. It’s described in Ancient Greek literature as being a paradise-like place where the souls of the deceased will not have to work or worry.
> 
> Tartarus - An area of the Greek underworld where threats to the gods (such as the Titans) were imprisoned, alongside sinful mortals, such as Sisyphus, a man tasked with eternally rolling a boulder up a mountainside. Notably, it is described as being very dark and very deep underground.

After Yuri died, time seemed to slow. With no Anthropology Club to hurry the afternoons by, each day dragged on. Korekiyo tried to throw himself back into his love of folklore, but every tale rekindled old memories of sharing stories at the goldfish pond. They laid bare the piece of Korekiyo’s life that was missing, and it soon became too painful for Korekiyo to even look at the stories’ covers.

His parents noticed the change, and they both commented on his despondent nature, saying that it couldn’t be good to spend his time grieving his lost sister. Korekiyo knew they were right, but, when everything he loved reminded him of Yuri, what could he do except lose himself in long-gone memories?

It didn’t take long for the Kendo Club president to begin hounding him again. And, after rebuffing her offers several more times, Korekiyo relented. He had no interest in the sport, but his parents’ worries were a nuisance. So, he attended the club meetings, trying to appear as though he were moving on.

And then, something changed, and Korekiyo’s love of folklore returned overnight.

\------

Pine litter crunched beneath Korekiyo’s feet, midday sunlight beating down on his shoulders. All around him, close-knit fir trees stretched off to the horizon. He was in a forest--one that he didn’t recognize--with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. The last memory that he could force his mind to conjure was of him laying down in bed.

So...that meant--

_Rustle. Rustle._

Something raced through the undergrowth. A shadow--something large--flicked across Korekiyo’s vision before he lost sight of it.

_Snap!_

Whatever it was, there was no way that--

“Boo!” 

A face swung down in front of Korekiyo. He let out a rather unmasculine shout and stumbled backward, tripping over a root and landing on his behind.

“Geez, Kiyo. No need to be so shocked. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Legs hooked around a tree branch, torso hanging upside down in midair was someone that Korekiyo had never expected to see again: Yuri. 

“Ugh. Sorry. Sorry. I know that it’s a lame pun, but I couldn’t resist,” she said. She somersaulted down from the branch and, with a grin covering her now mask-less face, extended a hand to Korekiyo.

“Yuri…” No sooner had Korekiyo pushed himself to his feet before Yuri had pulled him into a hug. 

“I missed you, Kiyo.”

“Ah...I missed you too.”

\------

Kiyo soon found himself hunched over, panting for breath. Not a minute after their reunion, a glimmer had arisen in Yuri’s eyes. She’d taken off running, zipping through the forest faster than a startled hare, eager to show Korekiyo around. He’d followed after her, but it wasn’t long before her breakneck pace nearly left him in the dust.

“You couldn’t...ah...go a little slower?” Korekiyo asked. “I’m not exactly the most athletic.”

“I mean, neither was I. It’s not like you have much excuse here.”

‘Was.’ The word made Korekiyo’s stomach twist. She was dead.

And yet, standing in front of him, a grin resting around the corners of her mouth, her cheeks flushed pink from their run, Yuri looked more alive than ever before.

“Yuri...what is this place?” They had exited the forest, and, with the change in scenery, the blue sky had sprawled open, ending only with the peaks of gray-tipped mountains far in the distance.

Yuri shrugged. “I dunno. The afterlife? I mean, I died and woke up here, so there’s not much else it could be.”

A stream burbled beside them, empty except for patches of blooming water lilies. In the distance, half-hidden by a grove of fir trees, was a small wood cabin. With golden rays of light filtering through the air, the entire land was picturesque.

“This place, it’s almost like a paradise,” Korekiyo observed. “It seems reminiscent of Heaven--or perhaps it has more similarities to the Elysian Fields of Hades.”

“Can’t be either of those. There’d be other people here if that were the case. Besides, don’t you have to be a hero to get into the Elysian Fields?”

“True.” Whatever type of paradise the valley was, it stretched for miles in every direction, possibly further. By Korekiyo’s estimation, if such a place existed on Earth, it would have been large enough to house a small city. “Yuri, are you sure there is no one else here?”

Yuri’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and the corners of her eyes crinkled into something close to a wince. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve scoured every inch of this valley, and I haven’t found so much as a beetle, let alone another human being.”

“Hm? But you found me.”

“Well...it’s not that there are _never_ people here. Sometimes, when I’m walking around the forest, I’ll catch glimpses of Mom or Dad out of the corner of my eye. Every once in awhile, it’ll be someone who’s more of a stranger, like the nurses who took care of me, or even that kendo club president--god, that one was scary. It’s one thing to think you’re so lonely that you’re hallucinating family and friends, it’s another to think you’re so far gone you’ve started hallucinating random cute girls.”

Pity clenched around Korekiyo’s chest. He knew how lonely Yuri had been in life, spending most of her days alone in her room, waiting for their club meetings. And that had been despite the hospital staff giving her constant care. This solitary paradise of hers, it must have been torment.

“It was that horrible?” Korekiyo asked.

“Nah, I don’t think I was hallucinating any of it. This place just doesn’t work like that. People show up for a bit, then they vanish. You’re the only one who’s stuck around long enough for me to hold a conversation. No clue why, though.”

“Hm. Perhaps it is because I am your younger brother, whom you adore.”

Yuri rolled her eyes. “I don’t think the afterlife runs on ‘power of friendship’ rules.” She sighed. “Then again, it’s not like I know how this place works. You could be on to something.” She glanced to Korekiyo, and her eyes widened. “Oh, no…”

His body had become translucent, like colored mist. 

“Stop. Stop. Stay here, Kiyo. Please, don’t leave yet! I don’t want to be all alone again!” Yuri flung her arms around Korekiyo’s fading body, as if the gesture would anchor him to her.

“Please, Kiyo, you need to come back, okay?”

“I…” Korekiyo didn’t know how he’d gotten there in the first place. He didn’t know if he _could_ come back.

“I will try, Yuri. I promise.”

Yuri’s presence vanished, and Korekiyo’s vision went dark. It wasn’t a black darkness, though. It was the all-too-familiar yellow-warm darkness that stained the back of Korekiyo’s eyelids before his alarm clock rang.

He cracked an eye open and was met with a familiar sight: Sunrise, peeking through his window, casting its gaze across Korekiyo’s bed and stopping just before it reached a stack of dusty folklore collections in the corner of his room.

A dream. Of course. It had been too good to be true.

\------

It had been an incredibly vivid dream, though. Something almost as clear and detailed as real life, Korekiyo mused as he picked at his breakfast. 

Something moved outside the window, and Korekiyo flicked his gaze over to it, His eyes landed on a flower bed of white lilies, swaying in the morning breeze.

Those hadn’t been there yesterday.

For a moment, Korekiyo suspected that maybe, just maybe, there had been something more to his “dream.”

\------

His suspicions were confirmed when, the next night, his dreams brought him back to Yuri’s realm. 

She had been overjoyed to see him, and, soon, they fell back into their old routines. Each night, Korekiyo would visit her, and they’d have their Anthropology Club meetings like they’d done while she’d been alive. He couldn’t bring stories into her realm. Whenever he slept with collections of fairy tales in his bed, the books would manifest in Yuri’s world with their pages either blank or filled with gibberish. So, Korekiyo would spend his days memorizing folklore and his nights recounting it to Yuri. 

And, with his interest in folklore renewed, Korekiyo found himself leaping at any opportunity to examine other cultures. He spent much of his waking hours traveling, documenting his findings, and passing them on to Yuri every night when he went to sleep. 

And yet, despite knowing that he would return, Yuri’s expression grew despondent each morning when Korekiyo’s body began to fade.

\------

“...I was fortunate that the basement was still intact. The remainder of the Caged Dog Village--having been razed to the ground--was little more than rotting charcoal. Even so, I managed to salvage some items of ritual importance...” There was a barely-contained note of excitement in Korekiyo’s voice. The ruins had left few traces of the culture that had created them, but what little remained was enough to piece together an occult religion, containing rituals that some would describe as dark arts.

Yuri’s eyes glimmered with fascination as Korekiyo spelled out his findings. “Ah! Are you talking about the ‘Caged Child’ ritual? Hey, do you think we could use it to contact other dead spirits?”

“Do you mean to perform the ritual here in this realm?”

Yuri nodded.

“Hmm...the ritual requires five individuals, and it is but us two here. Even putting that aside, we lack the required ritual apparatuses--namely the cage and Dog God statue. An imperfect ritual such as that would likely result in a curse being unleashed. I would advise against it.”

“Oh...yeah, that makes sense…” Yuri sighed, the motion seeming to make her posture deflate.

“And you are absolutely sure that we are the only ones here in this realm?”

“Like I’ve said, There’s no one else here in this valley.”

Korekiyo turned his gaze to the mountains in the distance. Their peaks rose, dull gray against the lush valley they encircled. They were distant, but still close enough that one could reach them on foot with a little dedication. “And what of the lands beyond this valley?” Korekiyo asked.

Yuri’s face fell. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

\------

After a mere few hours of walking--although exact time was hard to determine. The sun never seemed to rise or set within Yuri’s realm--Korekiyo and his sister had climbed almost halfway up one of the mountains. Below them stretched a sea of evergreens, and, if Korekiyo strained his eyes, he could almost make out a lump of half-hidden brown that might have been the walls of Yuri’s cabin.

Yuri plopped herself down on a boulder. “I’ll wait here. You go on ahead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah.”

Korekiyo thought to ask her more, but Yuri’s despondent, almost wistful frown told him that she would not appreciate any more questions. So, he continued his trek upward.

In the beginning, it was easy. The ground was firm and did not slope steeply upwards. As he continued, the incline grew more severe, and pebbles loosened beneath his feet, tumbling down the mountainside with sharp clatters.

At last, the ground grew too steep, too infirm. Korekiyo’s footing slipped the like loose stones in his wake, and he tumbled down the mountainside, rolling within the tidal wave of gravel that his footsteps had kicked free.

When he pushed himself to his hands and knees, he found himself again at the base of Yuri’s boulder.

“You wanna go again?” she asked. Her tone was dry, almost sarcastic.

Korekiyo did not expect any more success on his second attempt, but he made the trek again, pushing himself up the mountainside. Surely, with whatever mystery lay beyond those mountains, it would be worth the spare effort to step a little more lightly, walk a little more thoughtfully.

It was no use. Again, Korekiyo found himself tumbling down the mountainside.

“You starting to get the picture?” Yuri asked once Korekiyo had hauled himself out of the gravel.

“Indeed. Attempting to surmount these mountains is an almost Sisyphean task. Are you certain that this place is not part of the Greek underworld?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too sunny to be Tartarus.”

“A fair assessment.”

Yuri sighed. “You might have a point, though. Sure, this place seems like a paradise. Eternal sunlight. Eternal summertime. I don’t get hungry, or thirsty, or tired. I’m healthier than I ever was when I was alive. It seems ideal, right? But this world, it’s so small. And it’s so empty.” A sad smile rose to her face, and she gave Korekiyo a look that was tinted with both sorrow and affection. “Ah, but at least I have one friend to share this lonely eternity with.”

\------

One friend. And a friend that only visited Yuri at night, no less. She had to spend her days all alone in that prison of a paradise, staring at the sky, letting the hours drag past her. As much as she tried to remain positive, Korekiyo could tell that the isolation was taking its toll on her. 

No. One friend was hardly enough. Yuri needed more.

Trying to send her friends via dreams wouldn’t work. No matter how much Korekiyo tried to keep Yuri at the forefront of his parents’ minds, Yuri caught glimpses of them rarely, if at all. No, if Yuri were to have more friends, more drastic measures needed to be taken.

Korekiyo waited, biding his time. As lonely as Yuri was, he needed to be exact in his methods. If he were to be hasty and leave a trail of evidence behind, all his plans would be for naught. With a careless technique, he might quickly send Yuri one or two friends, but spending eternity with only one or two people was bound to grow dull. She needed more friends. Enough to turn that lonely realm into a thriving community.

100\. 100 friends. A lofty goal, but one Korekiyo was sure he could achieve.

Soon enough, Korekiyo’s patience was rewarded, and his chance to send Yuri her first friend presented itself.

\------ 

The day was gloomy. Overcast, with so much smog that even Korekiyo’s classmates without minor respiratory conditions had taken up face masks. He would have to abstain from Kendo club. The exercise--and especially the heavy breathing involved therein--would be damaging to his lungs, given the poor air quality.

So Korekiyo stopped by the kendo club and informed them that he would be unable to participate. His clubmates were disappointed to see him go, but they let him return home early without much fuss.

Except for the club president--who was currently trailing along behind Korekiyo on his walk home.

“Soooo...skipping practice, Kiyo?”

“I am _abstaining_ from practice,” Korekiyo corrected, “solely for the sake of my health. And it is rather hypocritical of you to criticize my absence, given that you are the club president--the one who has the most responsibility to be present at club meetings.”

“I mean, it’d be pretty irresponsible of me to go to practice when I’m contagious.” A light cough shook the club president’s shoulders, but her recently-donned face mask would block her contagion. Her illness was nothing Korekiyo needed concern himself over.

“Hm. So that is your excuse,” he said.

“Geez. Excuuuuse me for caring about the team.” The club president sighed. “Although...I mean, I guess I do have a bit of an ulterior motive. Something that’s kinda not part of this whole sickness thing.”

“Oh?”

A pinch on the fabric of Korekiyo’s sleeve stopped him. The club president had a determined expression on her face.

“Listen, I have a lot of things I’ve been wanting to say, so I’m just gonna say it and get it all off my chest.” The club president took a deep breath. “I’m...I’m really glad you joined the kendo club. To be honest, at first I thought you were just some popular guy that all the girls liked. I figured if I hounded you enough, if I got you to join the team, a whole bunch of other girls would join up, and then I wouldn’t be the only girl in this big ol’ boys club.”

“Hm. So my participation in the club was based in your ulterior motives since the beginning.”

“Don’t interrupt me! I’m not done!” A pink tint had risen to the club president’s cheeks. The hand that held Korekiyo’s sleeve was trembling with nervousness, but the club president held determination in her eyes. 

“My apologies. Please continue.”

“A-anyways, that’s why I asked you to join in the beginning. But, after a while, I started to get to know you better. I saw why everyone liked you so much. You cared about your sister so much. You’re a bit cold, but, deep down, you’ve gotta be one of the kindest people I know, and you’re really smart and…and I’m just gonna say it: I like you.”

Korekiyo had had a faint inkling that this was where the conversation would lead, ever since the club president had started going on about her feelings.

It was far from the only confession Korekiyo had been the recipient of. Granted, most of them had been in letter format, their senders too shy to confess to Korekiyo in person. The club president was one of the few courageous enough to tell him her feelings to his face. 

“I feel the same.” The lie slipped easily from Korekiyo’s lips. “I admire your courage, and your discipline, and your tenacity.” That part was truth. They were all inspiring qualities. Indeed, few possessed the brilliance that this young woman did. 

She would make a wonderful friend for Yuri.

\------

It was a simple endeavor to convince the girl to come home with him. All Korekiyo had to do was spin a promise of making her some tea for her sore throat and she--likely already looking for an excuse to spend time with him--followed after him like a lamb to the slaughter.

In order to ensure that Yuri’s new friend passed to the proper area of the afterlife, it was necessary to associate her with things of Yuri’s. Therefore, Korekiyo used the same recipe of chamomile tea that he had often made for Yuri, when her coughing was severe enough to inflame her throat, yet not so severe as to prevent her from eating or drinking.

The girl didn’t notice when Korekiyo slipped a few of his mother’s sleeping capsules into the tea. She was unconscious within minutes.

After checking that no one was near, Korekiyo grabbed the girl’s limp body--likely halfway to death, given how much sedative Korekiyo had given her--and dragged her to the back yard, laid her in front of the lilies, and, his feet bare, his sleeves rolled up so as to not stain them with blood, drove a knife into the back of the girl’s neck.

By the time Korekiyo’s parents returned home, the girl’s body was resting deep beneath the flowerbed.

\------

That night, when Korekiyo returned to Yuri’s realm, he found his sister with her arms wrapped around the girl--her new friend--consoling her as she sobbed into her shoulder. It had worked. With some luck, Yuri’s realm would be overflowing with friends soon enough.

Korekiyo raised an arm and called out in greeting. He expected Yuri to turn around, smiling, and thank him for ending her loneliness.

Instead, she whirled around, teeth clenched, glare sharper than the knife Korekiyo had used to send her her new friend. 

“What the _hell_ were you thinking!?”

Korekiyo flinched and took a step backward. “Yuri, I…”

“Kiyo, when I said this place was empty, I wasn’t asking for this!” she gestured to the sobbing girl that Korekiyo had sent her.

“I-I’m sorry--”

“No! _I’m_ not the one you need to apologize to. God, Kiyo, I thought I knew you.” Yuri’s eyes scrunched up like she was in pain. Korekiyo wanted to rush forward and comfort her, but, given her anger, Yuri was likely to attack him if he came within arm’s reach.

“I--”

“No, I don’t care what you have to say.”

“But--”

“LEAVE!”

Korekiyo’s eyes flew open. Yuri’s realm had vanished, leaving only his dark ceiling staring back at him. 

\------

From then on, Korekiyo’s dreams were nothing more than nonsense. No matter how many times Korekiyo vowed that he wouldn’t send any more friends or muttered apologies at Yuri’s gravestone, she never showed any signs of wanting to see him again.

But Korekiyo wanted to see her. He tried every ritual, every psychic medium he could get ahold of. None of them--none of the ones who weren’t obvious pretenders, at least--could make contact with her, saying that she was closing herself off out of resentment.

Resentment. Korekiyo could use resentment. Resentment wasn’t apathy, after all. It was something that an appropriate ritual could latch on to.

That was how Korekiyo found himself kneeling on a wooden plank, iron cage and wooden dog weighing the space above him, trapping him in place. A thin staff rested beside him, ready to push the stone--a counterbalance to the loose, lever-like floorboard Korekiyo knelt on--out of the way should he need to escape the cage and abort the seance.

The details of the ritual had been transcribed by a woman who had lost her entire village to a vengeful lord. The cage, the statue, even the song were all drenched in resentful energy. If the Caged Child ritual couldn’t latch onto Yuri’s spirit, nothing could.

Korekiyo knew several elements were missing. The ritual called for four people to say the chant and one to act as a spirit medium, but Korekiyo was the only one present. An imperfect ritual such as that was likely to unleash a curse, but possible contact with Yuri was worth any risk.

And so, Korekiyo began to sing. There were no flashes of light, no wailing spirits, nothing to indicate a curse, even as the final words tumbled from his mouth.

Even worse than a curse, there was nothing. No spirit entering his body. No voice speaking on behalf of the deceased. Nothing.

Yuri had shunned him, and there was nothing Korekiyo could do to gain her forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is harder than you might expect to find nature-filled, paradise-like afterlives in human mythology/religion. Many afterlives (such as “Yomi” from Japanese mythology and “Irkalla” from Mesopotamian mythology) have no judgement or “Heaven/Hell” state--all humans go there when they die, regardless of moral character. These afterlives also tend to be pretty gloomy places. 
> 
> Plus, different cultures defined “Heaven” differently. For instance, Valhalla (a hall of endless combat and feasting) from Norse mythology doesn’t jive well with Aaru (a land of fertile reed fields) from Egyptian mythology, even though both are the “Heavens” of their own respective mythologies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I really want to improve my writing so that I can get you all better stories, so feedback about what you liked and didn’t like is much appreciated! Please feel free to comment!


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